Glimpses under the hood

This world is a broken place
slipshod
cracks showing through
the mummers farce of civilization
Light pearing through holes
as through a barricade
thrown up against anarchy
a thing of furniture and scrap wood
nailed together with the dismissed dreams
of the overeducated youth
vanishing opportunities in the persuit
where your best shot at freedom
is to work in the cubical farms of the new aristocracy
segregated by income brackets
and the one or two who break past those barriers
into rarefied heights
held as a example that it’s possible
meanwhile sweeping aside
the bodies who attempted the same
and fell broken
it’s not the systems fault
it’s ours
we created and fed the system
we grind ourselves in its gears
and call it progress or life
promises to tear it down
end when you become a part of it
and self interest kicks in
we need martyrs not leaders
we need people willing to sacrifice themselves
and their betterment
for the people around them
but instead we grind them to paste
gristle for the share cropper
tilling their cubicle
under the crushing debt
imposed by the society of more

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